


In the Garden of Eden

by darkbrokenreaper



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because I need something for this pairing where everything is alright and nothing hurts, Courtship of a sort, M/M, Mischievous Pan, Not to spoil anything but everything is going to be alright, Pining, Underage Sorta?, adoration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkbrokenreaper/pseuds/darkbrokenreaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry is the Boy King of Neverland and Peter Pan is his ever loyal knight and protector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Not to spoil anything but everything is going to be alright. Even if it doesn't seem alright. It will be.
> 
> Just something I whipped up because this is my new ship and I want to have something for this pairing where nothing hurts and everything is okay. My version of Peter Pan is a mixture of OUAT Peter and the Peter in the movies both live action and Disney. Someone more mischievous than truly malicious. I have 30 pages of this done so expect more soon.

He was never the ruler of Neverland. No, he was Neverland’s chosen protector. The island itself had whisked him away from his paltry, miserable life to live anew as the protector of the dreams of children.

His earliest memories were of a cold, dark place, and a hand that came down and caused pain and agony. He remembered being hungry and so very alone until a soft hushed voice had spoken to him in his dreams and promised him freedom and warmth if he followed. The next day, he was on the shores of a magical island where there was no pain and no dreams. The latter confused him at first but he brushed it off; why would he ever need dreams when he had all that he had ever wanted right in front of him? He was the fae boy of Neverland, its puckish spirit of delight and the living embodiment of the island. Neverland had provided, clothing him lovingly in her colors and ensuring that he wanted for nothing.

On the land between awake and asleep, where dreams were remembered, Peter Pan waited and guarded over the dreams of children. Here he lived alone, catering to their every need. He was the fun playmate in their games, the merry companion on their adventures, and the knowledgeable guide through the magical land that was their playground. It was a fleeting life, none of the children ever stayed, but it was one that Peter was content with. He taught them to fly, to always dream and believe in themselves. Their joy was his joy.

But a land that relied on the faith of the children was always tenuous at best. When the children left, the island was a little darker, a little less magical. Time flowed slower, moved at such a sluggish pace. Peter always disliked the time when he was alone but in his heart he knew that there would always be children who believed in Peter Pan and Neverland, and would find their way to the island. And thus he held hope even during the longer stretches of time between visits.

Until it all stopped. He waited ages and ages but not one child showed up on the shores of Neverland. Days became years and years became decades until the silence and isolation drove him mad. In a fit of desperation he tore off his own shadow to play the part of his companion. It staved off the loneliness somewhat but it was never enough. Shadow magic was a dark, cursed thing and as the years slipped away, so did his sanity, until his lovely thoughts grew dark and his heart grew bitter.

Fine then, Peter Pan thought ominously. If the children do not come to me then I will find them.

So he travelled to the other worlds, dressed in a pied cloak and precious finery. Fortunately, he still had enough mind while crafting his pipe so that it would only choose boys who were abandoned, unloved, and lost. They became his new band of brothers, his Lost Boys, his family. He was their uncontested leader through their adventures on Neverland and the guardian of their dreams.

It was fun and he was happy until he began noticing that his boys were aging. It was subtle at first: hair and nails growing longer, an inch or two here or there, but then a year would pass and suddenly Peter found himself the shortest of the Lost Boys when he had been originally the tallest. And then the more obvious signs: lapses during flight, magical inhabitants disappearing, and parts of the forest dying out as if infected with rot. Something was wrong. The magic of Neverland was fading.

Even the boys had begun to notice these changes and their carefree lives suddenly had a shadow of doubt. They began to mention their families back on the mainland and depression became a constant confidant. His embittered heart grew colder with dread as he felt their belief in him drain out.

No, no, no! His boys were never supposed to crave home, and mothers and fathers. They were supposed to be here, with him, having fun all day with not a care in the world. But he could solve that. He was nothing if not a provider for his boys so he found them a mother, a girl named Wendy Darling with the same taste for adventure as his Lost Boys. She was easily beguiled by his talk of fantastical creatures and the ability of fairy flight. Along with her came her two little brothers who became Peter Pan’s new Lost Boys. All talk of families ended and Peter breathed a sigh of relief for now.

But these problems shouldn’t have been problems, Peter thought grimly in the confines of his own heart. Neverland was meant to be a land of freedom from duties and responsibilities. Nothing painful could touch them here but it was encroaching upon his territory and Peter did. Not. Like. It. Neverland was his to protect and he would be damned if she submitted to something as frivolous as Time and Death.

And so when the Lost Boys had fallen asleep, he traversed alone into the heart of Neverland where the waters of youth ran freely. To his horror, the gushing waterfall that transported the water throughout the island had dulled down to a trickling river which was Not Good. Neverland was dying, Peter realized with a cold wash of fear. His home was slowly rotting away to nothing. The thought plagued his mind constantly, drove him utterly mad with worry. By day he was the cheerful leader, driving away the doubts from his Lost Boys but by night, he fruitlessly searched for a cure on the island until his body was exhausted and his sanity fraying at the ends.

His Lost Boys noticed these changes in their leader and began shying away from him but Peter, lost in his delirium, did not notice.

But then, the forests began whispering of a boy with the heart of the truest believer: Neverland’s true king. Neverland’s rightful king, a far brighter being with a heart so beautiful and true that his mere presence would be enough to resurrect the dying island. Peter could feel clarity for the first time in ages and for days he sat in a trance-like state in the heart of Neverland to hear these whispers, straining to catch a name, a description of their king so that he could find them. Then one day, his shadow pulled him to an island.

There was a large ornate hourglass filled with golden sand sitting upon a pedestal carved with reliefs of fairies in flight and dance, their dragonfly wings fanned out behind them beautifully. But Peter did not notice any of that. All he saw was the small amount of sand on top trickling down to the bottom. Neverland was running out of time so quickly, faster than he had realized.

“What have you brought me here for?” Peter snapped, his ire great after being faced with the physical representation of his failure. “I was in the middle of finding our king!”

His shadow pointed to something at the foot of the hour glass where a scroll glowed brightly. At the behest of his shadow, the scroll floated lazily towards him. Impatiently, Peter plucked the piece of parchment from the air and studied it.

It was a picture of a boy with a round face and lively smiling eyes. Peter studied the photo, tilting his head at an angle as if it would help him puzzle out why his shadow would have dragged him out here for just a picture of some random child. He was rather average and there was nothing really significant that came out at Peter.

“What is this?” he demanded, holding out the drawing.

“Our king,” his shadow hissed, its sibilant voice ricocheting off the rocky cavern walls. “He will save our land and restore magic to this world.”

Peter’s heart leapt to his throat and his voiced was dry when he stuttered out, “T-Truly?”

His shadow nodded.

 “He is the One?” Peter asked, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” his shadow murmured.

Peter felt his chest constrict painfully and he resisted the urge to scream out loud in pure jubilation. Outward expressions of joy could come later, he chided himself. First, they had to find their king and bring him to the island. There was much work to be done. He flew back as quickly as he could and landed right in the middle of the Lost Boy camp.

“Boys,” Peter announced with so much enthusiasm that his Lost Boys all stood up in attention. “We’re going hunting.”

His compatriots began murmuring amongst themselves before one of them spoke up. “What are we hunting, Peter?”

Peter flicked the piece of paper toward the nearest boy. They scrambled for the drawing, analyzing it with the same confusion much like he did when he first saw it.

“What is it, Peter?” “Who is this boy?”

“Why he is our king, of course,” Peter smirked. “He is going to save Neverland.”

“Our king?” his brethren questioned.

“The rightful heir of Neverland, the boy who possesses the heart of the truest believer,” Peter proclaimed as the boys hollered and shouted. A feral grin decorated his lips as he opened a portal with a wave of his hand. “Now let us hunt, boys!”

For the first time in a very long time, they had hope. They searched with a renewed energy, a new sense of purpose in their eyes.

But as the hunt drew on, year after year without fruition, Peter realized his Lost Boys could only do so much. The main world where his shadow had indicated that their king was to be born into was changing and they could no longer slip into the population undetected. Desperate, he looked to his Lost Boys and chose two of them, Wendy’s brothers, and aged them until they passed as adults to search through the main world. He didn’t care about the horrified looks he received from his brethren. They would understand as soon as their ruler was on the island. Sacrifices were necessary, he reasoned as he stripped away the very thing that made Michael and John Lost Boys.

It still wasn’t enough; they needed help and so he had gone out in his pied clothing and found adults who blended in easily with the modern world. They were so easy to trick, Peter thought with a twisted grin. It was child’s play to make them bend to his will. He had found the perfect set of pawns, so acrimonious with their belief that magic had destroyed their lives when in fact their own follies had led to their pathetic existences. With a sweet boyish smile and a few pretty words, he had them under his spell.

And then he sat down and waited.


	2. All Hail the King

Peter felt it; as soon as the boy stepped onto the shores of Neverland, a pulse went throughout the land. The sound of a heartbeat, Neverland’s heart restarting again, fluttering in anticipation at the presence of her king. It was such a welcome relief that Peter couldn’t help but whoop in happiness and alight in the air to meet him.

He found Neverland’s king with the two pawns he had roped into his cause. Peter sniffed derisively; out of all the agents he sent, he would not have bet that these two were the ones who would find the boy. But that didn’t matter now, what mattered was that their king had arrived to Neverland. Hiding in between the branches of a tree over the encampment the three otherworlders set up, Peter Pan received his first glimpse of the future king.

He was not a remarkable boy by appearance but Peter saw what the others could not; a bright soul and a strong heart that could save an entire universe. And it was beautiful and so stunning that a fire lit inside of Peter, sparking in his chest and threatening to engulf his entire being. This was the heart of their king, so golden and radiant that it put the sun to shame.

Peter was tempted to steal the boy right then and there but he knew that the first sight of him would cement himself as the villain in Henry’s eyes. No, he had to play this game carefully. Ages spent finding the boy had led to Peter planning every single contingency, every single outcome. He would earn the boy’s trust before ensuring that their king would think of nothing else besides Neverland. Neverland would be their home, their only thought and Peter Pan would once again be the protector he was born to be. He knew of Henry’s family and their strong bonds but Peter was the best at manipulation and in time, Henry would see nothing but Neverland as his sole bond. He was always the best as games and this would be his greatest game yet.

His right hand, Felix, found him and stood at the base of the tree, awaiting orders.

“What would you have us do, Pan?” he intoned.

“Have all the Lost Boys chase the boy into the forest and kill the adults who brought him here,” Peter ordered. “They are no longer needed.”

It would be best to kill them now so that Henry’s family could not interrogate them. Peter knew they would be coming, could feel the arrival of Hook’s ship and he would lead them on a merry chase before extinguishing them permanently. He deserved a little fun for all the trouble he had gone through to find their king.

“Then what will you be doing?” Felix drawled.

“I’m going to earn his trust,” Peter said with a wicked little smile, donning on a Lost Boy cloak.

\--

Henry pelted into the forest as soon as Tamara had shouted at him. He prided himself on being a quick runner but his hands tied in front of him made his gait awkward and he could hear the boys gaining on his trail. He had heard a female scream behind him before he had made it too far and wondered morbidly what had happened to Tamara. The thought distracted him and he tripped over his own shoes (Stupid!) but before he could pull himself up, a hand clasped the back of his coat and dragged him behind a bush. Henry felt himself being pushed against a slope and a hand clap over his mouth.

It was a boy dressed in the same clothing as the Lost Boys but his eyes were wide and afraid as his pursuers ran past their hiding place. The pair of them listened with bated breath as the footsteps went past them.

“Thanks,” Henry breathed out as soon as it was quiet and the boy had removed his hand.

“Pan and his forces know every inch and every grain of sand on this island,” the boy hissed urgently, “We must be careful.”

“A-Are you a Lost Boy?” Henry stuttered, his breath uneven in his fear.

“I was,” the boy said as his deft fingers pried off the zip tie around his wrists. “But I escaped. Now they’re after me too.”

“How?” Henry asked, rubbing his wrists. “What happened?”

“No time for questions,” the boy whispered, distracted by something from the forest, “We must keep moving. Come on.”

 And with that Henry was hauled to his feet and made to run again. If he thought he was fast, then the boy who had saved him was much faster. His feet ached but Henry made himself keep pace behind the boy.

“I think we lost them,” the boy whispered, allowing Henry to inhale a lungful of needed air.

“Okay, can we rest for a minute?” Henry gasped out, his breath lost for a moment.

The boy nodded warily as Henry sat down on a rock and rested. He was starting to think that the coat and scarf he had on was a bad idea. Henry was boiling but he couldn’t afford leaving his clothes on the ground like a marker for their pursuers. That was just asking to be found.

“You’re new,” the boy spoke up, “Did the shadow take you too?”

“No,” Henry shook his head. “I was kidnapped by some people who work for Pan.”

The boy winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry. If he sent for you, he wants you. If he wants you, he will get you.”

Henry bit his lip as a feeling of dread curled in the pit of his stomach. The boy sounded so sure of this statement but he quashed the feeling down. His family was coming for that and he had to believe in them.

“Why does Pan want you?” Henry asked, trying to keep the dread from crawling up his spine.

The boy pulled out a vial hanging around his throat. Henry looked at it curiously. There was a small bit of white powder at the end but otherwise, it was just an ordinary vial.

“Pixie dust,” the boy elaborated seeing his confusion. “I stole it from him because I thought I could use it to fly away and go home but it doesn’t work.” He huffed and dropped the vial, letting it fall noisily around his neck. “It’s useless.”

“Don’t worry,” Henry tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace, “My family is coming to rescue me and you could come with us.”

The boy scoffed, his tone defeated. “You really think you’re the first boy to believe that his family is actually coming for them?”

“My family’s different,” Henry promised and this time a true smile bloomed on his lips as he remembered his story book family. “We always find each other.”

“You better hope they don’t,” he warned, “Or else Pan will rip their shadows to oblivion.”

Henry got up and put a consoling hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. Don’t lose hope. All we need is time.” Henry surveyed their location with a critical eye. “Is there a place we can hide from the Lost Boys?”

The boy looked uncertain but reluctantly said, “There’s a place they can’t track us: the Echo Caves. But it’s far.”

There was the sound of rustling in the forest.

Henry turned back to the boy. “Then what are we waiting for? Lead the way.”

And then they were off again.

“Look out!” Henry yelped, pressing a hand against the other boy’s chest, pedaling backwards as their feet hit the edge of a cliff.

“They’re over here!” one of the Lost Boys shouted. Terror clenched Henry’s heart as he turned to his companion.

“What do we do?” Henry asked frantically, “Is there any other way to the Echo Caves?”

“No,” his companion wailed morosely, “We’re done for.”

Henry’s brain raced as he thought of ways to escape before shooting each and every one of them down just as quickly. The boy reached into his shirt and pulled out the vial.

“What are you doing?” Henry questioned.

“I’ll give them the pixie dust,” the boy answered despondently, “Maybe they’ll let us live.”

“You want to give up?”

“We don’t have a choice!” the boy shouted, “They’ve got us. This is the end.”

And all of a sudden, it hit Henry.

“No,” Henry said determinedly, clasping the vial around the boy’s neck. “It’s our way out.” With a yank, it came free. He grasped his companion’s sleeve and pulled him back along with him toward the forest.

“What? What are you doing?”

 “Getting a running start,” Henry said distractedly, gauging the distance between them and the cliff.

“For what?” the boy asked shrilly. Henry steadfastly ignored the panic in his companion’s voice. It wasn’t helping his concentration.

“Everyone knows that pixie dust is for flying.”

“Then you remember the dust doesn’t work.”

“That’s because you have to believe,” Henry insisted.

“I definitely _do not_ believe,” the boy said resolutely.

“That’s okay,” Henry grinned and thumbed off the cap, “Because I do.”

He bolted as fast as he could, pulling the boy along with him as they leaped over the edge. For a moment, they hovered in the air as the pixie dust began to glow a magnificent gold and flow around them like a veil.

And then they flew.

It was working, Henry thought ecstatically. It was actually working. They were flying! He turned to his companion who had a similar look of euphoria on his face as they flew through the night sky. As the excitement wore off a little, Henry reveled in the feeling of the fresh night air blowing in his face and the feeling of weightlessness in his body. It was freedom to the highest degree.

His companion yanked the sleeve of his jacket and pointed downwards at a clearing. Henry nodded and they angled themselves toward the clearing. It was uncoordinated and difficult to aim exactly for the clearing and ended up with both of them tumbling toward the ground. Okay, the landing clearly needed some work but overall, it was awesome.

“See, if you believe, anything is possible,” Henry smiled brilliantly, getting up and brushing himself off.

“You couldn’t be more right, Henry.”

Henry froze, the smile slowly sliding off his lips. His companion stared at him predatorily, green eyes bright with something akin to a fever pitch.

“How, how did you know my name?” Henry whispered, backing away, “I never told you.”

“Let’s make it a game, a puzzle to solve,” the boy smiled wickedly, advancing toward him like a hunter.

“You lied to me!” Henry accused, betrayal etched in every line of his face, “You are a Lost Boy! You work for Pan.”

“Not exactly,” the boy’s lips quirked as if he told a rather funny joke, “I am Peter Pan.”

Well that was certainly a twist, Henry thought as his brain whited out to process the new information.

“B-But you told Greg and Tamara that magic was bad,” Henry stammered, “You helped them destroy it. Why?”

“Because I needed their help, and it is so much easier to get people to hate something than to believe,” Pan paced around him, caging him in without Henry realizing it.

“Why did you bring me here?” Henry asked, his eyes trained on Peter who was stalking around him, sizing him up.

“For quite some time, I’ve sought something extremely important, something more elusive than the greatest of all mysteries,” Pan commented lightly.

“What?”

“The heart of the truest believer,” Peter pronounced. “And when you took that pixie dust, Henry, and jumped off that cliff,” Henry watched as he knocked on the base of a tree, “You proved yourself. You are the lucky owner of that very special heart, and now you, and it, are mine.”

The possessive tone in Peter Pan’s voice sent a shiver down Henry’s spine. Pan pulled out his dagger and for a moment, Henry was terrified that he would carve out his heart right on the spot but the boy only raised it above his head and shouted, “Come on, boys!”

The Lost Boys began emerging from the forest and the trees like shadows and they surrounded Henry in a tight circle. Henry’s heart hammered in his chest as his eyes darted around, looking futilely for a way out. Each of them held a deadly weapon and the fear of getting his heart carved out returned full force.  He huddled into himself, preparing his body to duck and run like hell.

“Bow to the King of Neverland and pledge your loyalty to him!” Peter Pan ordered sharply. Like a wave, the Lost Boys all turned to Henry and bowed low to the ground, hands over their hearts, pledging their fealty. The panic was replaced with utmost confusion.

“Wait, what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes Neverland timeline and stomps on it violently*
> 
> So this is just a project where I reject the OUAT reality and substitute my own. I'm not so sure of the time they spent on Neverland so I'm just going to ignore that and then make things up as I go along.


	3. Like Daphne

Peter's heart was beating loudly in his chest, a sound that drowned out any other noise. Every few seconds or so, his gaze would shift to the dour looking boy in between him and Felix before a feeling of triumph would flood his chest with another round of palpitations. He did it. He had their king.

But that was only half the game, Peter thought grimly. Now they needed to convince Henry to stay, prove to him that Neverland was a fit kingdom to rule.

When they arrived at the camp, the boys began building a fire while Henry sat down on a log away from the center with a petulant glare that dared any of them to object. Peter allowed it for now. After such a trying day, he could understand the need for distance.

"What are you going to do with me?" the boy asked, glowering up at Peter.

"You'll find out soon enough," Peter replied offhandedly. Once he was sure that Henry was situated, he turned to Felix.

"What are your orders?" Felix asked.

"Make sure he is not to be harmed," Peter instructed sternly. "Give him anything he desires but do not let him leave this place. Do you understand? He is not to step _one foot_ out of this encampment. If he escapes before I come back, heads will roll."

Felix arched an eyebrow, causing Peter to realize that his order must have seemed oddly fanatical but he could not take any risks. He had come too far to lose their king now.

But Felix seemed to understand when he schooled his features into a mask of gravitas. "What will you be doing, Pan?"

"I am going to meet the opposition," Peter said, turning to the forest. "See what we're up against, this so called Savior and her band of misfit toys."

The Lost Boy turned back to their captive who had his knees drawn up to his chest and huddled protectively in on himself. Like a cornered cat, Felix thought with amusement.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked conversationally, sliding in front of Henry.

"Not hungry," Henry replied acerbically, staring sullenly at the ground.

"Catch," Felix said and Henry looked up just in time to snatch something hurtling toward his face. Huh, his training with Prince Charming was paying off. It was a red heart shaped fruit, slightly soft in his fingers and looked absolutely ripe.

"Nice," Felix nodded approvingly, a similar looking fruit in his hand. "It's a maiden heart."

"A what?" Henry wrinkled his nose.

"You bite into it," Felix demonstrated as red sticky juice began pouring out, gushing around the boy's wrist. "It bleeds like a maiden's heart."

"How do I know you're not trying to poison me?" Henry asked suspiciously. A vindictive part of him was sorely tempted to drop the fruit on the ground and just smash it to bits with his shoe but something told him that would not go well with his captors.

"Trust me, Pan would have my head if you died on my watch," Felix smirked, remembering their earlier conversation. "He still has use for you."

"The way I see it, he doesn't need me alive," he pointed out cynically. "He just wants my heart and you can carve that out of my dead body."

To his annoyance, Felix let out a bark of laughter.

"Is that what you think we want?" Felix remarked lightly, taking another contemplative bite out of his maiden heart. "Someone's been staying up too late reading fairy tales."

"Isn't that what he said?" Henry snapped tartly. "He wants my heart."

"Who said we wanted it in the literal sense?" Felix drawled amusingly. "Ever thought of that?"

Henry stopped short. No, he actually hadn't thought of that. But that made more sense when he thought about it. If Peter wanted his heart, he would have killed Henry in the clearing and gotten it over with. No need to draw it out but for some reason, he was still alive. Satisfied that he would live, at least for a few more moments, Henry relaxed a little, settling himself in his place. He observed the sticky red fruit in his hands; it would do him no good to starve himself. He needed to be strong when he planned for his escape. And he would escape, he had absolute faith in that.

"I'm Henry, by the way," he introduced cautiously. He bit into the skin of the fruit, his mouth instantly flooded with sweet, tart juice. It was delicious, and reminded Henry of cherry pie filling as he consumed the rest of it eagerly.

"Felix," the boy replied easily, finishing up his portion of fruit.

"It's nice to meet you," Henry said politely. He was in the company of the enemy and he needed to watch himself, remain whole until his family found him or he escaped. When he had devoured his share, Henry felt an empty pang in his stomach and he realized how long ago he had eaten. A bowl of maiden hearts was pushed in front of him and he stared up at Felix.

"Have as much as you want," Felix gestured. "There's plenty."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Henry asked warily but he plucked another fruit from the bowl. It was just as delicious as the first one.

"We're not the enemy Henry," Felix explained with an unreadable look. "We won't hurt you. You're our king after all."

"About that," Henry spoke up. "What do you mean by king?"

Felix smiled enigmatically. "You're going to have to ask Pan for that. He's the one who's been searching a long time for you." He pushed the bowl closer to Henry. "Eat up. Pan doesn't want you to go hungry while you're in the company of his crew. It wouldn't do to starve our king."

With a small theatrical bow, he left Henry with his confusion and his food.

\--

When Peter returned, the fire was dying and his brothers were all packing up camp. Even Lost Boys needed sleep so as his brethren bid their leader good night, Peter turned to Henry who shifted awkwardly in his place on a log and refused to look him in the eye.

"Well come on then," Peter murmured. "You'll be sleeping in my place. Only the best for our ruler and my home is the best of the lot."

He said this with pride. Neverland would provide the very best for her children, her king especially.

"Umm, no thanks," Henry quickly shot down the offer and settled himself at the base of a tree. "I'm perfectly fine out here."

"Don't be ridiculous," Peter frowned in annoyance. "You'll catch your death of cold out here and I did not go through all this trouble to have you die from illness. Now are you going to come with me nicely or will I have to carry you over my shoulder?"

A small part of Peter was disappointed when Henry shot him a withering glare and stood up to follow him.

"I don't trust you," Henry muttered as they ventured into his encampment.

"I don't expect you to," Peter replied glibly. "Not yet anyway. I'm not the enemy here, Henry."

"You killed two people in front of me!" Henry shot back heatedly. "You told them to kidnap me."

"It was necessary," Peter countered.

"Tell me the real reason I'm here," Henry demanded. There was such a look of fury in his king's eyes that Peter couldn't help but feel a thrill.

"I will," Peter promised, "But first, sleep. You've had a long day and you need to regain your strength. You can rest here tonight."

They stopped in front of the biggest tree Henry had ever seen. The inside of the tree was hollow all the way to the top and larger than he had thought. There wasn't much: a table covered in pieces of parchment, a few odds and ends lined on a shelf, and a soft cot covered in colorful blankets and a motley assortment of pillows. Sconces laden with dripping wax candles and carved into the wood itself dotted the walls above lit as soon as Henry and Peter had walked in. It cast a welcoming golden glow on the bed which looked quite comfortable. Henry had never felt as tired as he did now but he turned to Pan.

"Where will you sleep?"

"Oh, I've got some errands to run," Peter said with a smirk. "No rest for the wicked and all that."

"What are you going to do?" Henry asked, more curious than anything.

"Nothing you should be concerned about," Peter remarked offhandedly, "Now go to sleep or will I have to pin you to the bed?"

Henry colored a bright pink, something Peter took great pleasure in.

"I am not sleeping in the room of a psychopath," Henry retorted boldly, his arms crossed defensively in front of him. "My moms taught me better than that."

Peter drew in close, green eyes dancing as they stared each other down, faces barely a breath away.

"Is that so?" Peter leered. To his delight, Henry didn't back down and stared defiantly at him. A spark of warmth traveled through his chest and Peter was reminded of why he had waited eons for this one boy. He would have enjoyed spending more time with his king but he remembered the little nuisances on his island and the game he had to get back to. With great reluctance, Peter raised a hand, waving it in front of Henry's face as he quickly chanted a sleep spell. The boy's eyes slid shut but not before shooting a look of betrayal at him, and he crumpled into Peter's waiting arms.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way but you were never going to sleep otherwise and I need you to be well rested for tomorrow," Peter whispered softly, brushing back Henry's bangs away from his forehead. "For now, I need to borrow your clothes for a bit."

Peter pulled Henry close, kneeling down to cradle the boy's knees and picking him up to carry him over to the bed. He stripped Henry down to his shorts and tucked him into bed.

"You are making me soft, Henry Mills," Peter murmured, and he found that the thought did not bother him as much as it should. The boy was still so young, with so much possibility in him. Running his fingertips along the pinked cheeks of his king, he committed the shape and feel to memory, leaving only when he had burned it into his mind like a brand.

"Good night, my liege," Peter said quietly as he slipped out of the room. "Sweet dreams."

\--

"You put a sleep spell on me!" Henry shouted angrily at him the next morning. "And you took my clothes!"

Peter smothered back a self-satisfied grin. He had procured a pair of his own clothes for Henry in light of his appropriation of the boy's regular clothing. They were entirely too big, the collar hanging down to show a tempting tease of collar bone. A belt had been commandeered to keep Henry from swimming in the shirt and the pants from falling down the boy's tiny hips but the entire outfit was very comical indeed.

"Do you like them?" Peter asked impulsively. For some reason, he needed to hear the answer to this question.

For a moment the wrath on Henry's face morphed into one of stark confusion. "What?"

"Do you like the clothes I chose for you?" Peter asked again in a careful tone, his eyes unreadable as they searched Henry's face.

"They're too big and they're really cold," Henry answered truthfully before sputtering and going back to fury. "T-That's not important! You cast a spell on me!"

"You were not going to sleep otherwise," Peter replied easily. "And I needed your clothes."

"For what?" Henry asked indignantly. Peter smiled deviously causing Henry to falter a little in his rage. The fae boy leaned closer until he was looming over Henry like an imposing statue. Henry tried to back up but Peter's arm shot out and grasped the boy's shoulder so he couldn't move. They were so close that Henry could feel Peter's breath on his ear as he leaned over him. Henry shivered and couldn't bring himself to jerk his arm away.

"I like wearing your clothing because I enjoy breathing in your scent when I wear them," Peter whispered huskily. This snapped him out of his trance. Henry scrambled backwards with a look of utter disgust.

"That's really creepy," Henry said in antipathy. Peter laughed gaily as if paid the most flattering compliment.

"You can have them back if you'd like," Peter said instead, summoning the clothes he had borrowed. "They were quite comfortable."

Henry glared at him, his jaw set and his cheeks red with two high spots of color. He snatched his clothes from his hands and stormed off.

A while later, Henry was gone. At first Peter panicked, his rage made apparent when the campfire erupted in a geyser of flame, singeing the eyebrows off of more than a few of the Lost Boys. He threw out his magic, frantically commanding his shadow to search for the boy. To his relief, Henry was still bumbling around the island but Neverland had kept him moving in circles around her forests, close to the camp but not close enough that Henry realized he was lost. He could sense the island's amusement as Henry walked around and around, thinking he was following a straight path to the shore.

"You always did have a nasty sense of humor, my lady," Peter teased as he went to fetch their king. He could feel her laughter in the trees as he ventured into the forest.

The boy was trying to be quiet but he was inexperienced. His footsteps were careful and light but crunched loudly against the leaves. Obviously, he had not been taught the art of stealth and Peter made a mental note to rectify that as soon as possible.

"Where are you headed off to, laddie?" Peter asked casually, allowing just a miniscule bit of his anger seep through. Henry had made him worry, an odd foreign feeling that Peter had never experienced before. For once, he did not know his next move, wasn't in control of the situation and Peter _hated_ when he wasn't in control.

Henry jumped, freezing mid step as he turned to the tree Peter was leaning on nonchalantly.

"H-How did you find me?" Henry stammered. From the guilty anxious look on the boy's face, he could hear Peter's ire in his tone. Good.

"Didn't I tell you before, Henry?" Peter smirked, eyes flashing dangerously. "I know every inch of this island, every grain of sand on its shores. There is nowhere you can hide where I can't find you, nowhere you can run where I can't follow you."

"You can't keep me here!" Henry lashed out vehemently. "My family is going to find me and when they do, you will be sorry."

Peter laughed, to Henry's irritation.

"I am going to take you back to camp and you are going to stay there," Peter said instead, taking their king by the arm. "Your family can find us. In fact, I expect them to. But until then, you will remain in the camp."

Henry seemed to take that as a personal challenge and made more escape attempts as the day went by. Now that Pan knew where he was, the game became an amusement for him. If their king wanted to play then Peter would play. Though he loathed to cause Henry pain, the boy needed to know there was nothing he could do to escape the island. Peter planned to break his will so thoroughly that Henry would take the pleasures Neverland had to offer in order to escape it. Just as he did, just as all of his Lost Boys did.

Every single time Henry ran, Peter was there to meet him with a cutting smile and open arms.

"How are you doing that?" Henry panted after his last attempt. He had been running the entire day, hoping he could at least outpace Peter but the impossible boy was waiting for him every. Single. Time. It was highly maddening.

"I told you," Peter explained patiently as if chastising a disobedient child, "Neverland is my territory and I am her protector. I know everything that happens on this island, especially when her king is involved."

They stared at each other for a few tense moments before Henry broke into a sprint in the opposite direction. Peter sighed in exasperation and teleported a little ways ahead of Henry. He lazily settled on a stump, his legs crossed and his hand supporting his chin as he watched Henry backpedal with evident amusement.

"I suggest you submit before you break something," Peter commented drolly when Henry collapsed on the ground in defeat, little rabbit chest heaving in and out. "Are you quite done?" The statement sparked a fire in Henry and he glared mutinously up at Peter. Peter cocked an eyebrow; it was a pretty impressive glower from someone so small.

"Never," Henry snarled through clenched teeth. Peter grinned approvingly in reply.

"Well then," Peter got up and stretched his arms over his head. "As much as I enjoyed our day together, it is getting late and you haven't had a meal all day. You can try escaping again tomorrow if you'd like but I'd advise eating first."

Feeling the hollowness of his stomach and the tiredness of his limbs, Henry reluctantly followed Peter back to the camp.

"There's a lad," Peter smiled indulgently but Henry ignored him, balling his fists to his side resolutely.

"Was I at least close?" Henry asked after a moment.

"Oh, Henry," Peter simpered sympathetically but his eyes were glittering with sadistic glee. "You really don't want me to answer that question."

Henry's stomach sank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we've gotten to the canon divergence which means this is where my fun begins. In canon, it always bothered me how fast Henry believed Peter and how Henry never thought about escaping. I've always imagined that Henry would try at least even if he knew it was futile. So in my version, he spends his first day running away or at least trying really hard to.


End file.
